To Build a Home
by Miss DiNozzo
Summary: FBI agent Michael Warren now lives in D.C. His dream has come true. But he feels empty and lost, like something is missing. Because something is. And he knows exactly what it is. He built a home, and it disappeared. Oneshot.


** So guys, I'm sorry I haven't uploaded much for Stage Two recently, but I do intend to. Chapter 11 is currently being created. Sorry again for that, but I've been really busy. This story has been nagging at the back of my head for the past three days, so I had to get it down. The title came from a song that I heard and I found it very fitting. Link will be at the end of the story. Copy and paste to see the amazing video. It's long, but worth it. One-shot. Hope you enjoy!**

It was as warm as the surface of the sun. The heat blared down on me, searing my skin with its fire. My eyes were drier than the Sahara, my skin tattered like ancient papyrus. But then I felt a cool hand on my shoulder, easing the burning sensation hat had taken residence in my bones. I turned to see the figure, whose hand dropped at my movement. But I saw more than one being when I made the rotation. There were five familiar faces staring back at me. I reached for them, taking comfort in their sudden presence. My hand ventured for the five ghostly silhouettes, my desire to feel their realness increasing with every breath I took. But my hand went right through them, as If they weren't there, as if they were mere air. I waved my hand furiously at them this time, trying desperately to feel the soft skin I knew wasn't there. The apparitions faded in the air at my harsh seeking, like dust clouds being fanned away. They were gone as quickly as they had appeared. And it was my fault.

"No!" I heard myself croak out. "Don't be gone! Don't… Don't leave! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry…" My voice was carried away with the blowing of the wind. I felt myself disintegrate into bits and pieces. My screams echoed through the desolate nowhere as I was blown away.

…

When I awoke, the fire in my limbs was gone. I could see and feel, and I had a body. I was alive. These dreams terrified me, haunting me with the omnipresent pain, the supernatural beings that invaded my mind. They had spoken no words, but with their actions they had spoken the words no had dared to speak to me. My hands shook as I carried my tired frame to the door of my bedroom. I needed peace, and right now, that peace involved a large mug of black coffee.

I dragged myself down the hallway to the tiny studio apartment kitchen. The room was industrial—all white and non feeling. I sighed as I looked at the familiar sights. The white tile floors, the colorless walls, and the blank fixtures all stared back at me with disapproval in their dull eyes. They knew what I had done. The space felt empty, like it was missing something key or essential. It was like a puzzle missing a piece. But I didn't stop and wonder what it could be; I already knew. It wasn't devoid of character or lacking in personality. The room was missing _them._

I replaced the filter mechanically as I measured out the grounds. The brewing was methodical, a step by step process to get from Point A to Point B. It was just like everything else in my life. Replace filter, fill with grounds and water, brew. Graduate college, join the FBI, live as an agent in D.C. Nothing was ever different. I always woke up and drank my coffee before dressing myself in my suit and taking on its qualities for the day. When I was growing up, I saw this job as being more than that. I had thought naively that it would make me a hero, not a suit. But that was just the innocence of youth.

For the first time in my life, something hadn't gone according to the plan. For the first time I had to reexamine my overall goal. Was this what I really wanted? Or was this just the opposite? I wasn't the person I had grown up being. My time in California had changed me. Maybe the old me would have liked this new job trapped behind a desk. Maybe he would have been more satisfied with the way my life has turned out. But the person I have become, the person who I am, couldn't be any more disappointed. Perhaps what I desired had been staring me in the face all along. I might have thrown away the best things that ever happened to me. But where were they now? I didn't know.

I could see their faces again, hear their voices. Remembering all the things we had done, the memories we had created, I could feel the glow of the happiness they brought me. I imagined it lighting up my insides like it used to do and I pictured in my head exactly the way things had been before I screwed everything up. I pictured my family on the beach at the bonfire, playing football in the sand, surfing the waves before sun up. I pretended they were here with me now, and I could almost hear their laughter as they played some stupid game. But I was delusional and we all knew it. I could never have that again. I didn't deserve to have that again.

The machine signaled that the brew had been completed, and I downed the warm liquid. Images flashed through my head of the dark haired woman measuring out grounds over the sink, careful not to spill any for fear of wasting the precious substance. I laughed silently to myself as I pictured her dread at the powder dropping onto the countertop. She was always so meticulous. I placed my cup in the sink and trudged back to my bedroom to get ready for the day.

Collapsing on to the bed, I laid my head back and stared at the ceiling. My watch told me that it was way too early to be getting ready, so I sank deeper into the mattress and let my mind wander. But my mind was going in all the wrong directions, so I rolled over onto my face and tried to sleep. I don't know how long I laid there, but my alarm went off. My tortured mind was exhausted, and I allowed my arm to flop out and hit snooze. I sardonically thought to myself about how my Latino companion would disapprove. I rose from the bed in shame.

I threw on a pair of black slacks and a light blue button down, making sure the correct buttons were placed in the correct holes. I found myself smiling in spite of myself at the beautiful memory of the woman I thought I loved unbuttoning my shirt and adjusting it to look right. I could almost feel her finger prodding my skin through the hole I had left in my shirt. I wished I had had one more kiss with her. I could still taste her lips gently caressing mine as she placed her hands on my waist. Shaking my head, I drifted away from my reveries and put on my black leather shoes. My feet cringed as I stuffed them in and laced them up, aching to feel the freedom that my bright red flip flops had once brought them. But I had traded the soft sand for the hard pavement; my foam shoes were no longer up to the task of carrying me through life.

Grabbing a bagel as I walked out the door, I padded over to the bank of elevators. A bite of the tasteless bread in my mouth, I yearned for the taste of my superior's cooking. My thoughts flitted to those of the man I had come to think of as a brother. I smiled as I remembered the family breakfasts, him at the stove, the rest of us surrounding the island. I fondly looked back on the days when I would snag a swig of orange juice while its owner's back was turned. The scandalous behavior used to make me feel young and free; now it just made me feel childish. I slipped inside the elevator as the car came to a stop on my floor. Gosh, I remembered the days when it was just a short flight of stairs to get outside. Now it was eighteen floors.

I exited the elevator slowly and walked through the doors that separated me from the outside world. The silence that had enclosed me for the evening and night was broken as soon as the door creaked open. Sirens, the voices of strangers, car horns—just the typical sounds and sights of a day in Washington. But maybe this wasn't what I wanted anymore. This wasn't all I had built it up to being. This wasn't my home.

My head spun wildly in circles as I tried to make sense of everything. But at the same time, I was resolved. It was like I had been looking at the world blindly, and now I could miraculously see. This place wasn't where I belonged. My home was somewhere on the west coast, drinking beers at the bonfire, playing games in the sand, and enjoying the world they lived in. They were my home. And that was when it happened. I had a new dream. Nothing else mattered anymore. My family, my home, was where I needed to be. So that was where I would go.

watch?v=oUFJJNQGwhk


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